


New Life

by NocturnalNautica (EarthGirl)



Series: Sparkling AU [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Disfunctional relationship, M/M, Mech Preg, Transformer Sparklings, as expected for this pairing, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-23 01:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthGirl/pseuds/NocturnalNautica
Summary: Prowl has been acting weird lately, but Mesothulas isn't worried. Ostaros is due at any moment, and babies always make everything alright.Don't they?(Takes place in the sparkling au, but isn't part of its main story and can be read as a one shot.)





	New Life

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple of months ago, but was waiting to post it when the rest of the series reached this point. It's set a few years after Changes.

Mesothulas paused his calculations, feeling exhausted. It had only been two hours since he had started work, but pregnancy was taking its toll on him. Smiling, he softly caressed his own stomach. In the past he would have ignored tiredness and continued to work until he passed out on the table, but he had a good reason to save his energies now. His sparkling was due at any moment, and once born he would require a lot of care. Ostaros, precious Ostaros. Mesothulas could not wait to hold him, feed him, play with him, watch the world around him be made anew through his child’s optics. Nothing happened to him these days that didn’t made him wonder what Ostaros would think of the situation, how his mind would work, who he would be. Babies had always fascinated him. So much potential, so many possibilities…

Mesothulas had always longed to carry a child of his own, but for most of his life he had believed that dream to be impossible. Reproduction required a partner, and he had spent his youth convinced that he would never meet anyone who attracted him enough to make such a large commitment to. But then, of course, he met Prowl and the mere concept of “impossible” became obsolete.

Prowl. An unique, unpredictable mind, the likes of which Mesothulas had never dreamed of before. Trapped between the rigidity of Autobot morals and his firmer belief that the ends justify the means, Prowl was doomed to go through life at war with himself.  All of his brilliance and infinite creativity were constantly poured into finding ways to justify some of his many actions that Optimus Prime and the other Autobot leaders would never approve (like being with Mesothulas, for instance), and most of the time he was more than able to rationalize his way out of any moral conundrums.

But every now and then, Prowl’s conscience caught up with him, leading him to a painful internal conflict that lasted only until a new justification for his actions presented itself. That was Prowl’s pattern, one that he was incapable of escaping. Mesothulas had never met anyone less capable of change than his gorgeous partner. Such a characteristic would certainly make anyone else boring and predictable, but with Prowl… Ah, with Prowl, this was simply another one of the beautiful contradictions that made him the unbelievable person that he was. How Mesothulas adored to watch this cycle repeat itself, to try to predict which of their actions would trigger the next conscience crisis, and to listen to the magnificent ways Prowl found to talk himself out of any significant change… Mesothulas had studied some of the deepest secrets of the universe, some of the most obscure facts about nature, and he had never found _anything_ that came even close to being as detailed, deep, and enticing as the twists and turns of Prowl’s mind.

And of course, it didn’t hurt that Prowl’s frame was absolutely delicious too. Strong, perfectly proportioned, black and white, with tiny touches of red so incongruous with the grey of his spark…

Mesothulas moaned. It was ridiculous to get so worked up just from thinking about his lover for a couple of minutes, but he couldn’t help it. It had been so long since they had interfaced…  It was for a good cause, of course. The abstinence would prove more than worth it when they presented Ostaros to the world, along with the medical reports that proved that he had developed without constantly receiving sentio metallico, neither from his parents nor from synthetic supplements.  Mesothulas had swallowed one little capsule right after insemination, and that had been it. The baby had been able to produce his own sentio, drawing from Mesothulas’ regular diet. It was one of the largest scientific advances in Cybertronian history, and to Mesothulas, just accomplishing it was reason enough for satisfaction.

But Prowl had found additional applications for the discovery, of course. To him, their little experiment meant a chance to deal the Decepticons a powerful, if somewhat disguised blow. His enemies’ entire platform was based on the idea that the Autobots were the continuation of the Senatorial government that both sides had initially fought. Due to the way in which it had been employed by said government, sentio metallico supplements were a large symbol of its oppressive politics. Should the Autobots present a viable alternative, one that was cheaper and would work in the same way for every bot in need of it, part of the Decepticon argument would crumble. Mesothulas would never forget the way Prowl’s optics had sparkled when he realized that.

Of course, he would have preferred it if Prowl’s optics had sparkled earlier in that conversation… But, oh, well. What did it matter if potential political advantages were the only reason why Prowl had agreed to have a child? He had grown to love Ostaros during the pregnancy, and that was all that mattered. He tried to disguise it, but Mesothulas saw the way he stared at his stomach when he thought Mesothulas wasn’t looking. Ah, how he longed to see Prowl holding their child, to go to berth at night holding the two only people he cared about… He wondered how long the three of them would have just for themselves. Once Prime, a family-oriented mech with two little ones of his own, learned about Ostaros, surely he would insist on Prowl taking a decent paternity leave?

Mesothulas was counting on it. The truth was, he and Prowl could use some quiet time to reconnect…  His partner hadn’t been happy since he had learned about the Noisemaze. It and the Decepti-bomb seemed to be giving him a worse conscience crisis than his usual, and all he talked about lately were “ethics” and such other nonsense. Mesothulas doubted that phase would last two seconds after their son was born and Prowl was reminded of just how much the two of them could accomplish together.  And once the world learned what they had done, Prowl’s vanity and pride would surely be fed enough to keep the house free from his conscience for the next million years, or so.

But that, thought Mesothulas, was enough of letting his mind wander. It was time to get back to work. He attempted to stand up to get a tool on the other side of the room, but a sharp pain on his abdomen prevented him. Optics widening, he placed a hand on the spot and waited. Surely enough, the pain soon came again, and he smiled, feeling happier than he ever had in his life. It was time.

“Prowl!” He shouted. “PROWL!”

His partner ran into the room, startled by the urgency of the call.

“What happened? Are you alri…”

His voice trailed off as he took in the scene and understood what was happening.

“He is coming,” whispered Mesothulas, unnecessarily. “Sweetspark, our baby is coming!”

Prowl ran to him.

“Can you walk? No, wait, it’ll be faster this way…”

Gently, he picked Mesothulas up in his arms and carried him to berth. Mesothulas was speechless. This level of tenderness was unprecedented for Prowl, and even under the present circumstances he would never have expected it.  That uncharacteristic, blessed sweetness continued through the entirety of the mixture of agony and ecstasy that were the following hours. It was a difficult labor, and there were moments in which Mesothulas thought the pain would kill him. As they had agreed to not tell anyone about Ostaros until they had ensured he was born healthy, he had only Prowl to help him through it, and no amount of studying and preparation could erase the fact that Prowl had never done anything like this before.  But for all that he was clumsy, he was gentle, careful, and patient in ways Mesothulas hadn’t imagined he was capable of being. Despite the pain, and the lingering fear that something might have gone wrong with the experiment and caused the baby damage, the way Prowl was treating him made him feel… Safe. Safe about the labor, and about their future together. That feeling, along with the expectation of finally seeing Ostaros, brought unexpected bliss to the otherwise torturous experience. And when it was over, and he heard his child cry for the first time, he knew there were no words to describe what he felt.

“Prowl?” He muttered, weakly. “Prowl, let me see him.”

He extended his servos, eagerly, and laughed of pure joy when, at long last, his sparkling was placed in his waiting arms.

“I’ll get the medical equipment to give him a check-up” said Prowl, and Mesothulas nodded without looking at him. Much as he loved his wonderful partner, at that moment he had optics for nothing but Ostaros. His baby, his little scientific miracle, the most important accomplishment of his life. He was still covered in energon, but shades of beige and pale green could be distinguished under the mess of fluids. The optics were still offline, but Mesothulas could see the faint hue that indicated they would be blue, like Prowl’s.

He was perfect. Their child was absolutely perfect.

Still laughing, Mesothulas held him carefully against his chest and soothed his first cries.

“Shhh, it’s ok, baby, it’s ok. I know, I know, everything is new right now… But daddy is here. You remember my voice, don’t you? Yes, you do, what a smart boy. It’s alright, shhhh, daddy is here, you’re alright.”

Ostaros calmed, and Mesothulas offlined his optics, enjoying the warm pressure of the small body against his chest. He was wondering, vaguely, whether to feed him now or after the check up, when an unexpected sound brought all of his senses to maximum alert. There were steps approaching, but they were too heavy to be Prowl’s. Unless… Unless…

He tried to get up, but he was still too weak. Trembling, he held his child tighter and waited. A few seconds later the door opened, revealing what he had feared.

“Prowl? Prowl, why are you wearing that armor? Where is the medical equipment? Prowl? Prowl, _please, no_!”

Ignoring his pleas, the menacing figure continued to advance. Mesothulas clung to Ostaros as strongly as he could, but it was in vain. Less than five minutes after birth his precious baby was ripped from his arms. Startled, the tiny creature began wailing again.

“No!” Mesothulas tried to get up, and fell on the floor. “Prowl, what are you doing?!? _This is your son_! What are you doing?!?”

There was no answer. Ostaros was placed, not unkindly, on his crib, and left to cry as his aggressor turned towards his carrier. For the second time that day, Mesothulas found himself lifted from the floor, but this time the treatment was much rougher.

“No! No, don’t take me, he needs me, can’t you see that he needs me?!? Ostaros! Ostaros!”

The maddening silence continued as Mesothulas was carried out of the room and his captor turned in the direction of the lab. No. No! That could only mean…

“ **No**! Prowl, no, **please** , not **now**! I can’t be **apart** from Ostaros! I can’t be apart from **our sparkling** , please!”

Tears ran down his face. He knew the fate that waited him, and he couldn’t say he was surprised at the choice. Prowl’s ruthlessness had been one of the reasons why Mesothulas had fallen in love with him, after all, and being willing to commit his partner and lover to a fate he’d considered too cruel for his worst enemies was just another of the many contradictions that made him so perfectly unique. But still, he couldn’t understand how Prowl could do that _now_. It wasn’t just Mesothulas he was hurting, it was _Ostaros_. Ostaros, so tiny and helpless, who hadn’t even eaten yet, who _needed_ him… Ostaros, whose scared cries he could still hear.

His spark sank as a horrifying realization came to him. He had misjudged Prowl’s feelings for the child. Ostaros meant _nothing_ to Prowl. Nobody who cared about a child would do to it what Prowl was doing right now. And if Prowl didn’t love Ostaros… What would he do to him, once he was rid of Mesothulas? Ostaros was _evidence_ , he was proof of activity Prowl would want to hide from the other Autobots. Perhaps Prowl had waited until after labor because even he wasn’t willing to condemn a child to a fate worse than death, such as the Noisemaze. But _nothing_ that Mesothulas knew about his partner assured him that Prowl might lack the courage to have his own child killed, as long as he found a rational justification for it.

“OSTAROS!”

Thoughts vanished from his mind as he struggled against his captor, who staggered. Mesothulas might be weak from a complicated labor, but the instinct to protect his child gave him strength. It wasn’t enough, though, for after a couple of seconds he was once again held strongly by the suit’s powerful arms.

“OSTAROS!” He continued to shout, incapable of doing anything more effective. “I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU, SWEETSPARK, DON’T BE AFRAID, IT’LL BE ALRIGHT, I’LL COME BACK…”

The entrance to the Noisemaze was in front of him. Trembling, he begged one last time.

“Prowl, **please** … I’m not asking for me, you know I’m not… I’m asking for Ost…”

One push, and it was over. He had no thoughts, no emotions, no sense of self. There was only pain, chaos…

And an insurmountable sense of loss.   


End file.
